#though i see this sentiment more and more as a joke

[queenlucythevaliant]

I do think that Brits who are really enthusiastic about wanting King Arthur to return really just want Jesus to return and are using myth to cope.

[fictionadventurer]

Top 5 Arthur episodes?

D.W. Goes to Washington: It's a very close race between this one and #2, but I gave the edge to this one because almost every line here is classic. It's full of hilarious Imagine Spots and great D.W. zingers.

The Rat Who Came to Dinner: Another episode that's full of great jokes. The dynamic between Ratburn and Arthur's family is comedy gold.

The Contest: The pastiches of different animation styles alone puts this one in the top five, but it's also in service of some wonderfully absurd mini-stories with classic jokes. ("My brain was on cruise control" is the Arthur quote that gets the most use in daily life).

Buster Hits the Books: The pastiches of the different books are hilarious.

Arthur's Almost Boring Day: I had a very tough time choosing the fifth episode. I went with this one because the fighting between Arthur and D.W. reaches a hilarious fever pitch that goes beyond any other episode.

[schmitty-schmitstinstein]

This isn’t a serious theory but wouldn’t it be wild if the doctor regenerated into a child, somehow ended up in the very, very far past near Gallifrey, and through timey wimey shenanigans, the timeless child arc was revealed to take place in the doctor’s future rather than the past, creating a whole necessary paradox?

Does it seem far-fetched? Yes. Does it also seem plausible? Honestly after last week’s episode, I think so and I honestly think it would be so hilarious if RTD or whoever else ends up as showrunner does this, and I will keep a link to this post safe somewhere for the off-chance that it does.

[incorrectdeceptionquotes]

holy sh¡t a Deception fan in the year of our lord 2023?? how does it feel being in a fandom with 4 people in it bestie

Do not cite the deep magic to me, child... I was there when it was written!

[violent-viscera]

Can we just talk about this for one second?

“Wanna hear a dumb joke? A sentimental ex-con, a giant furball, and two of Piltover's most wanted walk into a weird cult.”

First, the sentimental ex-con.

The fact that Jinx, within the same act essentially called Vi out for being a traitor who joined forces with the "Piltie goons who killed [their] mom and dad" (and implied they both are psychos), still would rather affectionately see her sister as an ex-con over an enforcer–even though the latter position is more recent. She also acknowledges the softness, the gentleness that still exists in her older sister. Yes, she was more interested in “hitting things” when they were younger—and they were only recently at each other’s throats. But even so, Jinx knows that Vi is still sentimental at heart.

She saw Vi step between her/Isha when Caitlyn was still to willing take a fatal shot and traumatize or kill a child. She got to see her older sister put herself between Isha and Jinx when Warwick/Vander was coming at them full force. She sees the kindness in Vi still.

The affectionate jibe directed at Vander. Her second father, memories of whom she had been carrying around in the shape of guilt for YEARS, thinking that she had killed him. Throughout the act, until Singed irrevocably destroys Vander, we see how much this man loves his daughter. This act is the final admonishment to people who thought Vander didn’t love Powder–no, we just didn’t get to see their relationship as much. But he has always put so much responsibility on Vi because he wanted to make sure Powder, Claggor, and Mylo were safe–not that he loved Powder any less.

And lastly, her inclusion of Isha into their little screwed up family–two of Piltover’s most wanted. As we’ve seen in other posts, while Vi pushed Powder to the sidelines because she wanted to protect Powder, Jinx never excludes her because she didn’t want Isha to feel the way she did. I pity both Vi and Jinx so much because they were both showing love the best way they knew how–and tragedy and loss struck them both. 

But my point is this: even though Jinx frames it as a joke, kind of snide and snarky, as we see in this episode and act…..this little family reunion/addition meant everything to her. 

[crescenthistory]

Where Padfoot Lays His Head

Summary: Inspired by @thewriterghost's reblog of my last animagus!reader fic, this is just a sweet drabble of Whiskers comforting Padfoot:,)

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, your marauders/animagus name is whiskers, walburga black, black family dynamics and trauma, vaguely implied abuse, sirius spiraling into self-loathing, platonic physical affection, romantic!regulus x reader but platonic!sirius x reader is the main focus, background platonic!moonwater

Note: this is based on the same reader from Feline Touches, Sweet Like Honey and Padfoot vs. Whiskers, sirius' beloved almost-sister-in-law that he has frequent (loving) sibling squabbles with

Sirius pretended he didn’t feel the humiliation burning through his veins from his friends’ worrying looks.

Stop looking at me, stop caring so sodding much.

His internal begging was all for naught; this was apparently what he signed up for when he strolled into the train compartment that housed the largest smile Hogwarts had ever seen and his pack of make-shift slightly-fucked-up-but-lovable friends.

Most days, Sirius was grateful to the bone for the family he had been able to assemble at Hogwarts, stretching from his boyfriend to his boyfriend’s childhood best friend to his biological brother and the boys that became his brothers. However, on days that Walburga Black, the hag to end all hags, sends him a Howler berating him for leaving home over the summer, few sentiments besides anger, self-loathing and isolation remained in the young boy’s body.

When he eventually stops reeling and wallowing, all this attention would make him feel warm once more, especially when he sees they didn’t stop showering him in it even as he retreated perhaps a bit rudely from it. Right now, though, it just kept the wound open and Sirius was sure the infection would kill him this time around.

He was sure of that every time.

It became evident quickly that he would not be able to get away from his friends. James was practically glued to his side from the moment he left the Great Hall after Walburga ruined everyone’s lunch. His brown eyes were so wide beneath his glasses and Sirius was sure he could almost see tears in them as he swung his arm around Sirius’ shoulders and kept telling jokes like his life depended on it. Remus was not much better. He had learned by now not to soften his touches when Sirius was in these moods – on the contrary, harsh, direct touches helped ground him – but his hands rarely left his being, as if he would fall apart without him. Even Lily tuned down her playful banter with him, swapping it for concerned questions and checking in on him throughout the day. Sirius loved them all, but he hated it.

Even Regulus showed him more compassion than normal, though he didn’t say much. His entire being seemed to radiate I get you, I understand more than anyone, because frankly he did. Even as hearing Walburga’s voice must have rattled Regulus too, he didn’t show it, instead holding space for Sirius, carrying what was supposed to be his burden.

Humiliating. 

All of which to say, Sirius did what Sirius does best; he ran from them all, in the one form none of them would be able to hold a conversation with him in.

Padfoot had turned out to be a blessing that way. Sirius picked up on it from you, who only ever was in your animagus form when you felt particularly well or horrifically poorly. Difficult to ask how a dog is feeling, yeah? 

He laid in front of the common room fireplace, stretched out in a position that showed he was ready to pounce should anyone try to pet him. Around him, his friends were cuddled up on the sofas and armchairs, chattering lowly amongst themselves and playing the occasional game of wizarding chess. Padfoot had his head placed on his front paws as his gaze flickered all over the room, unable to settle. His nerves always seemed to transform with him, manifesting as the most anxious dog Gryffindor had seen.

Perhaps the only one, but the sentiment remained.

Their stares were still on him, penetrating and with downturned frowns over their faces. Stop it, stop it, stop it. He couldn’t string too long sentences together in his dog brain – part of its fantastic appeal right now – but that sentiment remained steadfast.

You were sat in Regulus’ lap opposite the fireplace, murmuring something in his ear as you both intermittently looked at Padfoot. Your hands were playing with his hair, lips almost grazing his skin as you talked, even pressing the occasional kiss to his cheek, his jaw, his ear. Love. Padfoot loved love and he loved his little brother getting to experience it so wholly, even as he laid here, destroying the moment with the same misery that haunted any children raised by the Black family. He felt as if he was sucking the joy out of the room with his wallowing, yet he couldn’t stop himself.

Padfoot couldn’t help the low whine that escaped him at the darkness swirling around inside him. Upon fearing having to meet the gazes of anyone who caught the noise and see the goddamn sympathy and pity in them, he brought his paws up to cover his eyes, pathetically hiding within himself.

Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.

In his internal chanting, he didn’t notice when the chatter died down a bit, nor did he see the glances exchanged. He felt the footsteps reverberating through the floorboards, suggesting somebody was walking away, but he didn’t register its true implications. Leave, was all he could think. Good, leave. Go.

What he did notice to its fullest extent was when a few moments later, soft fur collided with his own as something was rubbing against him.

A bit too quickly, almost too violently, Padfoot’s head snapped up from beneath his paws to see what this intrusion was – only to come face to face with a white-and-grey cat, blinking slowly at him. His mouth fell slightly open, and he thought a complaining bark may be on its way out, but then you – Whiskers – butted your head against the side of his neck, caressing him with your feline body.

The adventures of Whiskers and Padfoot were a running joke, especially one Remus and Regulus loved to team up to tell. Whether it was chasing each other around, hunting rats – preferably Wormtail, but any would do – and mice or playing with the house elves, you two loved to conduct mischief together in the one form you could never be properly caught in. There had been the occasion where you cuddle or pet one another, but it was rare and usually unspoken, attachment growing deeper and softer without either properly addressing it. 

So, this was not necessarily out of left field, but it surprised him nonetheless. He couldn’t say it wasn’t quite welcome, though.

You had started purring as you walked up and down his body where he was laid in front of the fire, soaking up the warmth he was bathed in and oddly calming the vibrating nerves within his own body. Whenever you reached his head, you bumped your snout against his, rubbing the space between your ears all over his face.

Cats are weird, Padfoot thought. Like it.

Mere minutes ago Sirius had been surveying his friends and his effect on them intently, digging himself deeper into his self-inflicted hole. Now, his attention was captured by the much smaller animal beside him, and he didn’t see how most conversation had stopped to witness the interaction. Lily and James looked at them in almost shocked awe, both having been snapped at and ran away from when they attempted to pet Padfoot themselves. Regulus and Remus, however, sat there with soft, knowing smiles – seeing the girl they loved most go for it with no fear and comforting their favourite dog. Remus would deny it to anyone who asked, but there were tears in his eyes.

The next time Whiskers came up beside his face, you stayed there, leaning yours against his. You laid your body down over the paws Padfoot had previously rested his own head on and made yourself comfortable in a position no one but a cat could possibly conjure up. From there, you began cleaning his fur like you were his personally-assigned cat mother, licking the strands in their correct direction. When his face was too far away, you lightly brought your paw up to his snout to bring him further towards you.

Despite being placed in front of a fire, warmth didn’t truly spread through Sirius before now. When he brought his head down, he laid it on top of you and let it rest there across your midsection, careful not to hurt you, as your upper body curled around his head. You continued cleaning up his fur as you purred loudly, easing the tension from Padfoot’s poor body.

A cuddle only animals could come up with, an embrace Sirius would deny anyone today, yet like this, it just worked.

When his eyes became heavy, Sirius let them fall. You continued your ministrations without hesitation, carefully and slowly tending to Sirius face, only stopping occasionally to nuzzle your forehead further into his fur and purr even louder. 

He didn’t quite fall asleep, he rarely did as Padfoot, too alert and awake in this form, but he let himself fall into a place of tranquillity. Walburga’s harsh words seemed almost funny in their anger now, and Sirius’ own spiral was becoming a thing of the past. 

Would he still be red-cheeked tomorrow and avoid his friends’ eyes for the first half of the day? Perhaps, but they would reel him into their arms and hearts regardless. Would he sputter and fall back into his evil cycle of thoughts if anyone brought this specific moment up? Without a doubt, but that’s why they would not, at least not before he settled. 

Padfoot was suddenly safe in the Gryffindor common room. He was safe with this warm weight over his paws and beneath his head, he was safe with love being quite literally carded into every strand of fur on his body. He was safe with the hearth behind him and his pack in front of him, quiet voices further lolling him further into a state of peace.

Padfoot was safe – maybe even loved.

Across the room, Remus and Regulus had gravitated further towards one another, as theirs were the only eyes who never left the scene of cat-dog-solidarity displayed before them. 

Regulus bumped into Remus’ arm with his elbow and whispered, “He doesn’t like cats, he says?” with a knowing smirk.

The other boy huffed a laugh at that, lips remaining softly upturned. “I believe he has an exception or two to that rule.”

[princessbrunette]

In need fathers day with baby daddy rafe, pretty pretty please princess 💕

ᘏ ⑅ ᘏ   ഒ    zᶻ

you always felt nervous going to tannyhill. not that you felt unwelcome, everyone in his life made it clear that rafe’s baby was of utmost importance to them — so with that came the kind and supportive treatment toward you. however, you couldn’t help but feel like a burden. if rafe wanted to be around you and his kid 24/7, he would do so — hell, he’d get back with you. due to feeling like this, your palms were all sweaty by the time you’d reached the front door, card tucked under you and baby carrier weighing down your arm.

he looks surprised to see you when he opens the door. still in his shirt and slacks, it’s clear to you that rafe had buried himself in work today. it only then occurs to you that father’s day might be difficult for him, giving his circumstances at all. you inwardly wince.

“uh, hey.” he eyes you, itching his cheek and peering into the baby carrier.

you clear your throat, bashfully holding out the card. he takes it in silence and you place the carrier down, picking up your sleepy baby and holding her to your chest. “happy father’s day, daddy.” you smile, voice soft as to not disturb your child too much. he softens a little, blinking.

“that today?” he breathes and you stiffen a little. surely he knew?

“uh, yeah. we got you a card, wanted to let you spend some time with her today if you’re not too busy.”

“if i’m not too— listen i’m never too busy to see my kid okay? or you. i’m— i’m never too busy to… see my family… and stuff.” it’s awkward, the sentiment too soft for his liking and he looks down, staring at the sweet, milk-plumped angel in your arms. “let me…” he reaches out and takes her, her fat little fists immediately stretching for him and curling into the material of his shirt making your heart swell. he was always oddly a natural at this, handling her so well. it always filled you with a strange kind of sadness, one that regressed you slightly to something more scolded and childlike because your own father hadn’t offered you that same generosity. yet, you were thrilled your baby would receive that love even if you weren’t together with her father.

“come in, please.” he stands aside, holding the door for you before picking up the carrier in his other hand— effortlessly walking it with the baby to the living room. “you walked here?” he converses, setting the carrier down and placing the baby back inside, crouching down to stroke her tummy with the side of his finger.

“took the bus. no way im walking with that heavy thing.” you chuckle quietly and he swivels his head to glance at you.

“should’ve told me you were coming i would have got you. y’know i really don’t like you getting on the bus with her, it’s not safe alright, there’s all kinds of lunatics out there.”

“we survived.” you shrug, and there’s a short silence before he stands up, reaching for the card and opening it up. you fiddle with the hem of your dress awkwardly. you never quite knew what to do around rafe these days.

you watch as he reads the contents. ‘to daddy, thanks for being the best and always looking after me. can’t wait to be able to tell you myself how much i love you.’ you sign it off as your daughter, but his eyes linger over it, your sweet handwriting scrawled around the brightly coloured paper — almost for a moment like you were saying it yourself.

“and before you ask, yes she said all of that herself.” you joke to ease the tension and he snaps out of it, looking up at you with a chuckle.

“our little wordsmith, huh?” he smirks, wandering over to the mantelpiece and displaying the card. it filled you with some kind of pride, though it wasn’t about you. “look uh…” he strokes his jaw, glancing over at the baby. “let me take you both out for dinner, yeah? my treat.”

“your treat? rafe its father’s day, we’re supposed to be treating you—”

“i know, alright but… i’m supposed to be looking after you, right? looking… looking after you both.” he corrects himself, walking closer to you until he was basically looming over you, eyes wide. “and— and i know this is a hard day for you too, alright— shit, it’s a hard day for me. gotta bond as a family at some point, you know that right?”

you nod, feeling a weight off your shoulders a little at the way the tension fizzles out.

“you sure? i don’t wanna take up your time—”

your incessant apologising makes his eyes flutter in irritation and he takes your cheeks in his hands, forcing you to look at him as he ducks his neck down to be more at your level.

“you’re not… yeah? you’re not. so quit.”

you blink all dumb, not realising how badly you missed his hands on you even if it was just as an innocent gesture and you nod, not trusting your voice. you try not to overthink the way he leaves his hands there for a moment as he glances over at your baby, thumb absentmindedly stroking your cheekbone for a second before pulling away and patting his pockets. “has she slept?”

your brain malfunctions so it takes you a second, but soon you choke out a “y—yeah. had her afternoon nap she’s just still waking up.”

“good. i know somewhere quiet, got a host there who owes me a favour.” he strides to the carrier and lifts it before turning back towards you, blinking at you obviously. “well are you coming or— or what?”

“yeah. yes. i’m coming.”

ᘏ ⑅ ᘏ   ഒ    zᶻ

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (50/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Reunited.

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of fingering and cunnilingus), alcohol consumption, fluff and angst and everything in between

Word Count: 4.7k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: this is part one of the dream I had over two years ago. I'm so proud of what the story has turned into. I love you so much. feedback is appreciated!

Charles: I can’t wait to have you back in my arms tomorrow evening. 

You smile at your phone, fuzzy blanket tucked underneath your chin and feet resting comfortably in Kikas lap. 

You: Next time you go to training camp, I’ll come with you. Take some professional pictures for your Instagram like my job description says. 

Charles: And here I thought you liked the picture I sent you. It‘s not really professional, but I gave my absolute best. 

He gave his absolute best, indeed. Even though the both of you didn’t text that much in the last few days, he made sure to send you a picture of him in case you miss his face. Even though his face wasn’t visible at all in the photo that showed his abs, boxer briefs and thighs.  

Not that you’d ever complain about that. 

You: I loved the photo. 

Charles: Next time I’ll let you take those pictures of me. But maybe with you in them as well. 

You: Is that an offer to sit in your lap again?

You press the send button and put your phone back next to you on the couch, gaze now fixed on the TV. It’s a re-run from Vampire Daries, the episode where it shows that Damon met Elena first. It’s one of your best friends favorites. 

When your phone lights up again, you take a look at the message that popped up on your lockscreen. 

Charles: As long as you’re naked.

You raise your eyebrows at the blunt text, blood rushing to your ears as you stare at your phone. The last few days consisted of quick good mornings, tired good nights and longing I miss yous but this – this makes you hot and bothered. 

A promise of what he’ll do to you once the both of you are back home. 

Charles: I really can’t wait to start the new year with you by my side. 

How can he go from a text that makes you wet to one that makes your heart skip a beat? You purse your lips and smile at your phone. 

„What are you smiling at?“, the Portugese woman asks, hand in a bowl of popcorn. With one inelegant move she grabs as much popcorn as possible and shoves it into her waiting mouth. 

„I’m not smiling“, you lie, grabbing your wine glass from the coffee table and taking a sip. You’re hit with a few popcorn pieces. „Hey! What –„

„Don’t lie to me, querida“, Kika grins. „I may have already had three glasses of wine, but I’m not stupid.“ She raises her eyebrow, waiting for you to answer, even though she already knows the answer to her question. 

You toss her your phone and, like the best friend she is, she unlocks your phone with your pin. Your chat with Charles pops up immediately. “The last message,” you say, and Kika reads the chat carefully. When you remind her that you only want her to see the last message, she sighs. 

“You two are even worse than Pierre and I when we're apart,” she jokes, slowly scrolling up. "It almost hurts how sappy it is." At one message, she throws her head back and laughs before looking at you with a pout. “'I miss you so much it hurts,'” she reads Charles' message from last night. 

You roll your eyes in mock annoyance. ‘I know what it says.’ You lean forward and try to get your phone back, but Kika is faster than you and turns away. 

“'Just one more sleepless night and then I'll finally have you back again.' My goodness.” Kika breathes out heavily. "I should show your chat to Pierre. He could definitely learn something from your sentimental messages.”

“Kika,’ you warn her, putting your glass back on the table and watching her scroll on.

“'The bed is so empty without you,'“ the brunette continues. ‘’When I'm with you again, I'll keep you in bed and taste your body until –”'”

“Okay, that's enough.” You grab your phone in a flash and sit on it so Kika doesn't get the temptation to take it from you. Blood rushes to your cheeks – and the warmth in your face is definitely not coming from the alcohol. 

“Spicy texts,” she grins, raising her wine glass in a toast to you. "I wouldn't have thought of you as the kind of people who sext each other."

You take the bowl of popcorn and pop a piece into your mouth. ”We don't sext.”

Kika purses her lips into a narrow line and raises her eyebrows. “That didn't sound at all like it. I was scared I was going to come across a nude photo of one of you two.”

You throw a piece of popcorn at her. "There are no nudes, Kika." At least none where either of you is really naked. 

“Phew. Thank God,” she grins and takes a sip of wine. She draws it through her teeth once before swallowing. Her gaze is curious when you look at her. ”I thought you two hadn't had sex yet. At least that was the case a few days ago. Did I miss something?”

You shake your head. “We haven't had sex.”

“But you've already kissed.” When your gaze wanders from her to the TV, she sits up a little straighter. She puts her glass down with a cool expression on her face to place her hands on your ankles. Her eyebrows raised, she looks at you in surprise. “Don't tell me –”

“We haven't kissed yet,” you quietly confirm her thought, as if you didn't dare to say the fact that you both have done a lot together, but haven't kissed yet. 

Somehow the sentence leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

Kika reaches for the remote and pauses the episode before turning back to you. “Why not, if I may ask? I mean...” She pauses to think about how to phrase her sentence without offending you. “Your texts are not exactly G-rated.”

You roll a piece of popcorn between your thumb and index finger. “If I knew, I would tell you,” you reply, examining the snack in your fingers as if it contained all the answers you need to define your relationship – or whatever it is between Charles and you. 

The Portuguese woman purses her lips. “But – you want to kiss him, don't you? Or don't you want tiramisu anymore?”

You shrug. "Nothing has changed." You exhale quietly. "Absolutely nothing.”

Kika tilts her head and looks at you. "That's the problem, isn't it?”

You sit up straight, too, placing the bowl of popcorn between your crossed legs. “It's weird. It is weird, isn't it? We – after the party, when Charles practically dragged me out of the club, he –” You take a deep breath and try to sort out your thoughts so as not to jump from topic to topic. You run your fingers through your hair. “We didn't kiss. He fingered and ate me out, but when I tried to get close to him and touch him, he blocked me. Which is fine in itself – but I –”

Kika, noticing your frustration, grabs your hand and squeezes it gently. “You don't know exactly where you stand,” she finishes your sentence. 

You breathe out and nod slightly. “I mean – isn't it strange that he wants my body but doesn't kiss me? Or doesn't let me touch him? Kissing is actually something you normally do before – before all the other things.”

Your best friend licks her lips. ”Actually, yes.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek. “I didn't sleep with Raphael back then because I didn't feel safe in the relationship – and my gut feeling definitely didn't deceive me.” You shake your head slightly. “And now, with Charles, I feel safe. But he –”

Annoyed by the situation, you close your eyes and lean back against the armrest, putting your forearm over your face. You feel bad that you want to rip Charles' clothes off and kiss him until you can't breathe anymore when he obviously doesn't want it. 

Or rather – wants something else. Unfortunately, you don't know what exactly. 

“Hey.” Kika's voice is gentle as she strokes the back of your hand with her thumb. ”You two have only known each other for – what – two weeks? You were forced to be roommates before you were even friends. It's only natural that your dynamic would change.” She slides a little closer to you on the couch. “From the beginning, you were destined to be more than just people sharing an apartment. I saw that the very first night we met.”

You remember the dinner very clearly. When Charles was so rude to you because he had spoken to Annika, but you two had made up again. When you shared the tiramisu – the tiramisu that became synonymous with the attraction between you and the Monegasque between you and Kika. When you touched for the first time – only through your clothes, but you could still feel the warmth of his skin. 

She purses her lips into a narrow line. “It was obvious from the start that there was more between you. Even if you couldn't admit it to each other back then.” She tilts her head. “Why do you think Charles wasn't so thrilled that you got along so well with Lando right away?”

You mumble through your arm. “When he came back from Maranello, he explained that he was jealous of our friendship and worried that we – Lando and I – might become a couple and we – Charles and I – would no longer be friends.”

“Bullshit.” Kika's voice sounds cutting. 

Confused, you sit up and look at her, your arm falling into your lap. “Excuse me?”

“Bullshit,” the Portuguese woman repeats. “You're right that Charles was jealous, definitely. Even the people on the other side of the table could see that. But not about your friendship with Lando. But because you got along so fabulously within a few hours that Lando knew exactly what you definitely wouldn't eat off the menu.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “We talked about it when we ran into each other at the supermarket and he helped me find the groceries,” you explain to her, as if you had to justify yourself. 

Kika gently pats your hand. “It doesn't matter where or when you talked about it,” she says at some point. “Someone you only knew for a few hours knew something about you that your roommate should have known. And you'd only known Charles for a few days, had argued twice, and then there was someone else who got along with you so well from the start and made you laugh?” She shakes her head slightly. "Charles was never jealous of your relationship with Lando and the possibility that he might lose you as a friend because of it.”

You're at a loss. "Then what?”

Your best friend takes a deep breath. “He was jealous that Lando took his chance before he did. His chance to be closer to you than mere friendship would allow.” She squeezes your hand again. “Charles definitely feels more for you than friendship, querida. And everyone except you can see it.”

You look at her, raising your eyebrow. “Did he tell you that? Or Pierre?”

Kika presses her tongue into her cheek. “No, but –”

“You see?” you reply and pull your hand away from her, propping your elbows on your knees. “I don't know what's going on in his head. And he's not telling me either. Which is perfectly fine. But how am I supposed to feel when he – when he apparently only wants my body but not me?”

She opens her mouth to say something, but closes it again. 

“I know that the breakup with Annika really affected him,” you continue. "And that's totally understandable. I mean, who wants to catch their girlfriend in bed with another man?" You run your fingers through your hair in frustration. ”I can understand it, really. But – I don't know – if you're really right, then I don't understand why he only wants my body and not me. He would kiss me otherwise, wouldn't he?”

You have the feeling that your thoughts definitely made more sense in your head. But now they are spilling out of you like a shaken bottle of coke. 

“I – I don't know if I can take this. Raphael – when he didn't get my body, he looked for another one, or rather several others. He didn't want me, just my body. I'm afraid it's the same now.” You look away. "I don't think I can get over something like that again. It was already difficult with Raphael, but Charles – Charles means so much more to me than Raphael ever did. Charles is my home. My one and only.”

“Maybe he's also worried that you don't feel the same way about him,” she interjects. "Have you told him?”

“That I love him? No, I haven't.”

Kika blinks at you silently. ’You — you love him?”

You stare at her as if pink elephants were floating around her head. It's the first time you've said it out loud. And contrary to your expectations, your worries and fears, which you brought with you as a legacy from your relationship with Raphael, it feels right. 

Tears well up in your eyes. “I love him.”

Kika can't stop the smile that spreads across her beautiful face. Like a little girl, she throws herself in your direction and wraps her arms around you, pressing herself against you. “I'm so proud of you, querida.” She kisses your cheeks. “So unbelievably proud.” She pulls away from you and wipes the tears from your cheeks with her thumb. 

You look at her, confused. “Proud?” Your voice trembles with excitement. You actually said it. You can hardly believe it. 

“Incredibly proud. You let your walls come down even though you were hurt so badly.” Now tears are welling up in her eyes as well. ”You let love into your heart. Passion. You're ready to be loved, sweetheart. The greatest adventure in the world. I'm so incredibly proud of you.”

The two of you embrace for another moment before your friend pulls away from you and jumps up from the couch. She grabs her laptop and googles shops that sell dresses suitable for tomorrow's occasion. 

“We'll go shopping tomorrow morning and get you a dress that will take Charles's breath away,” she grins, cuddling up next to you under the covers. "We'll buy you a dress that he can't wait to rip off you." She smiles at you. ”And he'll kiss you. I'd bet money on that, too.” Before she clicks through the internet any further, she grabs the remote and presses play. 

You wipe a tear from your eye before leaning your cheek on her shoulder to watch her browse. In the background, you hear Damon speaking in the series:

“You want a love that consumes you. You want passion and adventure and even a little danger.”

It's as if he's speaking from your soul. 

-

You carefully get out of the cab, trying not to wrinkle your dress. With your purse on your shoulder, you walk up the few steps to the house where Kika's New Year's party is taking place. Your dress is baby blue, with a slit that reaches to the middle of your thigh and a back neckline that definitely doesn't allow for a bra. 

Kika did an amazing job dragging you through the various shops this morning, forcing you to try on countless dresses. 

And indeed, you found the perfect dress. 

“You look fabulous,” she smiles as she opens the door for you. There are already a lot of people in the background and music can be heard outside on the street. She kisses you on both cheeks. ”That dress was definitely the right decision. If Charles doesn't give you at least a New Year's kiss on the lips, I'll be happy to do it for him.”

Your girlfriend is wearing a black, sparkly dress with a cutout at the waist that accentuates her figure beautifully. She grabs your arm and pulls you through the crowd of people, all of whom are also wearing chic evening wear. 

You look her up and down and whistle. “You look hot, Kika,” you compliment her as she stops in the kitchen. “Maybe I'll take you up on that offer. Where's Pierre?”

“I have no idea. He's probably lurking around somewhere.”

While she mixes you a drink, you look around before taking your cell phone out of your handbag to see if Charles has sent you a text. 

But there is nothing. Since this afternoon, when he texted you that he was on his way back to Monaco. 

Kika notices your searching look. “He's not here yet.” She waits until you have put your cell phone back in its case before she hands you the almost full glass. “But don't worry. He'll definitely come. After all, he promised you.” She points to the large clock hanging next to the double-door refrigerator. “And he still has two hours before the new year begins.”

The next hour and a half feels like an eternity – no, two eternities. 

You chat with Kika and her friends, even Elena is there, and you win a round of beer pong with her, which looks pretty funny considering that all the guests are dressed as if they could go to the prom in a minute. 

The music is loudest in the huge living room, and the bass vibrates right through to your bones as the three of you dance and drink and enjoy the evening as if it were the last day. Which, in theory, it is. 

But no matter what you do, your thoughts are always with Charles. Is he already in Monaco? Or even on his way here to you? 

You have to actively stop yourself from checking your phone every five minutes in the hope that he has sent you his location or a message. These last few days you have missed him so much that you would like to call him to ask him where he is. 

And the more minutes pass, the closer midnight and the new year come – the more your stomach becomes queasy. 

With your jaw clenched, you stand in the bathroom and wash your hands, holding your wrists under cool water to get rid of the heat, but somehow it doesn't quite work. Your thoughts revolve around Charles. 

Charles, who you haven't seen in days. Charles, who you miss terribly. Charles, who you love. 

Charles, who apparently isn't going to show up at this party. 

When there's a knock at the door, you turn off the tap. “Occupied!”

The door opens and just as you're about to complain, Kika and Elena poke their heads into the bathroom. Their cheeks are red from alcohol as they join you and close the door again. 

Kika puts her arm around your shoulder while Elena leans against the wall. “He'll be here,” the Portuguese woman tries to cheer you up, as if she can read your mind. Apparently, it's written all over your forehead. 

You look at her, raising your eyebrows. “And what if he doesn't? There are only twenty minutes left until New Year.” You try to sound as neutral as possible, but you can still hear the tension in your voice.

“Who'll be here?” Elena asks, looking at both of you and taking a paper towel to moisten it a little at the sink. 

“Charles,“ Kika answers for you. When you give her a dirty look, she just shrugs. 

“Don't worry,” Elena smiles, stepping in front of you and taking your chin in your hand to wipe away the mascara under your eyes. “He's probably already outside looking for you.”

Kika nods eagerly. “Elena's right,” the model agrees. "Come on. You've been in here for far too long. We're going out there now and celebrating the New Year together," she says, leaving no room for discussion. She grabs your hands and pulls you both outside, where Pierre is leaning against the wall. The music is quieter here, more subdued, so you can even have a proper conversation.

“Where the heck have you been?” Kika pouts at him and puts her arms around his neck. "I haven't seen you in ages." She gently pulls him down to her and kisses him briefly before nestling against his side. "Doesn't she look great in that dress?" she asks, pointing at you and your gown.

Pierre smiles at you and kisses you on the cheek in greeting. “You look beautiful,” he says before kissing his girlfriend on the forehead. “But I still have the hottest date tonight.”

“And I don't think that's true,” you hear someone say behind you. The voice is warm and gentle and oh so familiar. When you turn around, he's standing there in dress pants and a shirt and absolutely perfect. ”Good evening, mon amour.”

You don't even try to hide your joy at seeing him again, which is why you immediately throw yourself at him. His muscular arms wrap around you and he lifts you up, before spinning you around briefly. 

When he sets you down, his warm hands remain on your hips, while yours rest on his cheeks. “Hi,“ you smile at him, trying to blink away the tears of joy gathering in the corners of your eyes. 

“Well, did you miss me?” he grins, his fingers spreading apart and now resting on your lower back, on your bare skin. 

Goosebumps spread out at the place where he touches you. As if it is the first time. As if you can't get enough of him. You smile. “Well,” you try to play down your emotions. “I finally had a whole bed to myself,” you joke. 

The Monegasque rolls his eyes playfully before pressing you closer to him. “In your messages, it sounded like you couldn't wait for me to lie next to you again,” he whispers, his warm breath caressing your face. 

You look up at him. “Maybe I was lying.”

“I doubt that very much,” he smiles at you. "I'm so glad to be with you again." He leans down to you and gently kisses your cheek as your hands slide down to his chest. ”Next time I'll really take you back to camp. I never want to be separated from you for so long again.”

You purse your lips. “It wasn't that bad.” Cheeky lie. 

He raises his hand and places his curved index finger under your chin to lift it up so that you look at him. His eyes sparkle in that beautiful green that you love so much. 

“It was absolute hell.”

“Maybe you two should just get married,” Kika interjects. You both turn your heads in her direction and stare at her in puzzlement. Pierre nudges her in the side. ”What? Sooner or later it'll happen anyway.”

“Okay, my darling. How much have you had to drink?” Pierre asks her, as he throws you an apologetic smile and then wraps his arm around his girlfriend's waist to lead her away from you both. Elena gives you a quick wink and follows the couple. 

Charles leans against the wall, but pulls you with him so that his hands are back on your hips and you are standing between his legs. “You look beautiful in that dress,” he smiles, letting his fingers slowly travel over the fabric on your butt before sliding up over your bare back. “Did you know that it's my favorite color?”

The smile on your face grows wider. “Maybe.” Your arms wrap around his middle. “I missed you so much,” you answer his question from earlier. 

His hand gently caresses your shoulder blades before his fingers carefully find their way to the back of your neck, holding you there. “Never again without each other,” he whispers, as if it were a promise meant only for your ears. 

You nod slightly. “Never again without each other.”

In the background, you can hear the other party guests beginning to count down the minutes to midnight. You both glance towards the door. 

“We should get back to the party,” you say, pushing away from him, just a little, because you can't get any further with his hand on the back of your neck. “So we can start the new year together with the others.”

“I'm not interested in the others,” he says, but follows you back to the party. ”As long as I have you, I don't care about the others.”

His words make your blood rush to your cheeks. 

It’s like his presence makes you see everything more vibrant. The air in the apartment seems to shimmer in golden light, a haze of champagne bubbles and glow of string lights wrapped around the ceiling beams. Things you haven’t noticed before, because you were so focused on Charles‘ absence. The both of you come to a halt next to Kika and Pierre, the first one handing the both of you champagne glasses. 

„You ready?“, she smiles at you, raising one eyebrow. 

Now is the time. The breaking point. The start of it all - or the end before it even really started.

You nod slightly. „I’m ready.“

You stand beside Charles, his free hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you so close against him that not even a sheet of paper would fit between the both of you. But even though his hand is on your bare skin, he doesn’t seem close enough. You can smell his cologne – something crisp and familiar, laced with memories of late-night drives and inside jokes and pillow talks. You steal a glance at him, your heart stumbling over itself. 

He laughs about something Pierre shouts at him, dimples flashing, his green eyes catching the chandelier light in a way that makes your breath hitch. You’ve known him for two weeks – two fucking weeks – but it seems like you’ve known him since forever. The way his voice sounds all raspy and deep when he wakes up. The way his eyes light up when he talks about something he’s passionate about. The way he makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room who truly matters to him. 

And yet, he has no idea. 

All around you, the energy shifted. The crowd tightened, turning towards the big TV screen mounted on the wall, where the countdown was shown. 

Ten. Nine. Eight. 

Your pulse quickens. Your heart beats so fast, that you fear it’ll break through your ribcage. You inch even closer, pressing yourself against his side. You can feel his body heat through your dress, something you missed the last few days. It’s been two weeks of skirting around the truth, of stolen glances and unsaid words and hesitant touches, and you don’t know if you can bear another second o fit. 

Charles shifts beside you. You can feel it – the way his body stiffens, the way his breath falters. 

Seven. Six. Five. 

Then, just as you lift your head, he leans down. It would take nothing to close the space between your lips. Just an inch. Maybe less. You can feel his breath on your face. 

He says your name, whispers it in a room full of people who shout numbers, but all you can hear is him. His voice is raw. A plea. A warning somehow. 

Four. Three. Two. 

He closes his eyes, his forehead brushes against yours and the closeness makes your pulse stutter. Every little detail of him is magnified – the different shades of green, the tension in his jaw, the fingers tightening around your hip, curling into your flesh like he’s afraid of letting you go. Like you’d slip out of his reach if he loosens his grip.  

One.

His eyes snap open, dark and conflicted. 

You push yourself up, not even an inch, and Charles – 

Charles pulls away. 

Happy. Fucking. New Year. 

[nanamiskentos]

DAYLIGHT! ☓ ── ( 呪術廻戦, multi )

⌗ valentines day with the sorcerer you love <3

ᯓ starring ─ jjk ensemble cast : gojo, geto, nanami, choso, sukuna, toji, ino, kashimo, hiromi

𝓶𝓾𝓵𝓽𝓲. ㅤ﹑ ( 呪術廻戦 ; x afab!reader )  ─── ❛ cw ⌓. sfw. wc ⌓. 2k. art, sea_Pall

﹙ 五条 悟 : gojo satoru ﹚ ─ probably the type to pretend that he's forgotten valentines day to mess with you, acting clueless all morning. but he's dropping the entire extravagant surprise later for sure, including a red rose bouquet that could pay a month of rent, all your favourite chocolates and fireworks ! pretends not to sniffle and tear up when you give him your own gift, because for all his bravado it means a lot to him that you love him just as much. he just wants to see you happy, and he puts serious effort into making valentines day special, even if he hides it behind jokes and teasing. got a custom-made gift, something like a charm bracelet with small jewels and charms that represent all your favourite things. also the type to do shit like buying you a star in your name, right next to his because he thinks the idea of cosmic soulmates is so romantic. late at night, when it's just the two of you, he drops the jokes and tells you, 'you're the best part of my life, y'know.' and he means that with all his heart.

﹙ 夏油 傑 : geto suguru ﹚ ─ complains about valentines day a bit, because he doesn't see what's so different about feb 14, but he still indulges it. if you're bad at giving gifts, he'll pretend to love whatever you give him, even if it's...awful. he prefers quality time over material gifts honestly, and he plans a quiet date where he can spend as much time as possible with you, over tea or expensive wine. but that's not to say that he doesn't put effort into a gift. it's definitely thoughtful and catered to your taste, and probably more sentimental instead of flashy (like chasing down your favourite author with rainbow dragon just to get an autograph on a copy of your favourite book). clasps your hands with his to kiss you, and tell you that he loves being with you because you give him peace.

﹙ 両面 宿儺 : ryomen sukuna ﹚ ─ "why would i celebrate a human holiday?" but when you woke up, there was a velvet box beside you on your pillow, and he acts like he has no idea how it got there ('oh, it was just uraume, it wasn't me' and then he goes and gets all upset when you go thank uraume instead). he doesn't get the idea of giving flowers either, because well, they all die in the end right? but he knows they make you happy, so he's still chasing after the prettiest bouquet he can find. he'll never admit it, but he's obsessively protective over you, so the fact that he's even acknowledging valentines day means that you're special to him. the type to haul around a box of a hundred doves so you can open it as a surprise, and watch as all these birds fly all over your apartment. late at night, when no-one's around, he traces circles on your wrist and tells you that he doesn't do love, but whatever this is, he doesn't want it to end.

﹙ 七海 建人 : nanami kento ﹚ ─ he tries to be serious about valentine's day, but gojo keeps texting him ridiculous gift ideas that keep fucking with his composure. if you surprise nanami with something romantic, he'll turn slightly pink and peachy, and say that 'this is unnecessary' but he won't stop smiling the rest of the day (#needthat). even though he's not a fan of big celebration, he wants you to feel appreciated. he probably goes down the classic route of a perfectly planned dinner, your favourite flowers, and a handwritten card -> the type of husband material where he attends one of those artsty card making/flower pressing classes just to make something for you with his own hands. when he pulls you close at the end of the night, he whispers to you that he doesn't need a special day to remind him of how much he loves you.

﹙ 伏黒 甚爾 : toji fushiguro ﹚ ─ he asked what you wanted for valentines day and you said that you wanted him oiled up in the dining table. and toji's the type to lowk take that seriously, because that's kinda cost effective for him too. but he does genuinely try to do something nice and heads over to a shopping centre of stores that are way out of his pay grade, and tries to bat his pretty, green eyes into some type of discount. the sales assistants don't argue with a man built like an mma fighter wandering around the jewellery section. even if the two of you don't go out, he wants you to feel safe and secure, and he'll keep an arm around you all day. after everything toji's been through, you're the one thing that makes him feel human again. "i didn't think i'd ever have this," he tells you, holding you against him.

﹙ 脹相 : choso kamo ﹚ ─ doesn't quite the holiday, and choso just wonders if it's some sort of human ritual that he's not quite grasping. tries way too hard to make it perfect, but it's all the more endearing. choso was convinced he could handle a homemade dinner, but he burnt it so bad that gordan ramsey would have a stroke. but he was determined to bullshit his way through it, "what do you mean, babe? this is how it's meant to taste." all said with a straight face, the gall! picks out flowers based on their meanings because he wants them to represent all the real love and feelings in his heart. he's such a pda type of guy, always clinging to you and intertwines your fingers with his as he leads you around. definitely sees you as the most precious thing in the world, and he just cannot believe he has someone as incredible as you <3

﹙ 猪野琢真 : ino takuma ﹚ ─ is determined to figure out valentines day himself, without getting advice from other people (like nanami) but in the end, he finds himself tweaking out and trying to plan the perfect day for you. accidentally bought something that was really cute, little and bejewelled because he thought it would look gorgeous on your neck. didn't realise until afterwards that he picked it up from the pet accessory tub, and desperately hopes you don't realise. he spends the whole day just wanting to make you laugh, because if you're happy, he's happy. even if he does mess something up, it's just endearingly sweet and he makes up for it with pure enthusiasm. he gets all soft and melty when you reciprocate his feelings, and he tells you that he knows he's not perfect, but you make him want to be better.

﹙ 鹿紫雲 : hajime kashimo ﹚ ─ he kind of has a reputation to keep up, and rolls his eyes at the mention of valentines day. but no-one knows that back in the day (aka, the edo period in the 1600s) he was actually into things like poetry and courtly love. unfortunately, he's also an adrenaline junkie and you regret showing him the movie 'twisters' because he truly thinks storm chasing is a fun and romantic activity. he goes out and buys you something that he knows you'll actually use, more practical sort of gifts. he actually tries to go and pick flowers for you himself, instead of buying them. tries to act smug and above it all, but gets all nervous and twitchy when you compliment him and gift him something in return. almost started sweating and getting a headache when you told him that you loved him because he realised that now he actually has to be equally open about his (equal) feelings. of course, you know that hajime does love you but you just think its funny watching him go nauseous and pale at the idea of emotional vulnerability. its good to let the cocky man sweat a bit, good for character building.

﹙日車寛見 : higuruma hiromi ﹚ ─ a classy man (want him) and he treats valentines day with plenty of elegance. he's definitely secured an expensive and well-thought out gifts like a rare book, perfume, or a beautiful fountain pen (or all three). he takes you out to a fancy jazz bar, where he treats you to the prettiest cocktails and kisses your hand softly. he's surprisingly affection behind closed doors, and purrs when you run your fingers through his dark hair. also goes pretty shy when you flirt with him and get ridiculously affection, like he's pulling on his tie and trying to hide the red flush on his neck. your valentines day with hiromi ends with you and him laughing over a glass of pricey wine. he thought he was so clever for writing you a little note like 'roses are red, violets are blue, if you ever get arrested, i'll be there for you :)'

[miyaz6ki]

the jacket around kinich's waist- he only puts it on for very special occasions. which is when you get cold at night while you travel together.

when he sees you shudder from the cold of the night while he walks right behind you, best bet he's already taking it off to put it around your shoulders.

"huh- oh kin you don't have to it's fine."

"take it. i saw you shudder."

"it's fine, though you don't-"

"take. it. 'kay?"

"..okay."

he wants you to stay warm, the weather wasn't that bad for him. and of course he expects you to do the same when the time comes. he'd never do something when there's no benefit (unless it's you, so all jokes whenever he asks for something in return.)

the way you submit the favor in return, you let him lay on your chest. the simple gesture of cuddling means more than millions of mora could ever amount to.

hearing the pulse of your heart. your breathing pattern, wherein he slowly started to match it. holding your hand throughout it all because he loves the feeling that he knows you're close by.

the softness of your chest reminded him of the days where he had no worries, which is probably more recently. he hasn't known the feeling of peace for so long, your arms are the most familiar sentiment.

he knows he had to go at the brink of dawn, but.. just a few more minutes please..

can you tell mid-writing i realized its a jump suit thing and not a jacket? (I'll post kinktober like probably 9pm tmr instead, I'm not finished plus I prefer writing drabbles like these more rn sob)

[angelbaby-fics]

Daddy stucky x little reader where she loves taking naps especially With her daddies so can you do something where the little one is in a very very young headspace like a few months or a year and they are at the avenger tower but she sleeps most of the time and just wanna near to her daddies

Naptime With Daddies

Word Count: 450

A/N: ohhh this is on of my favorite concepts ever!! i love thinking about this!!!! especially when i'm stuck in public somewhere & i just wanna go to sleep, i just daydream about daddies 💕

Some babies had blankies, others had stuffed animals, a sentimental item that went with them everywhere. You were a bit different though - instead of cloth comforts, your favorite things to snuggle with were your daddies, Bucky and Steve. Any time you had to sleep, you’d prefer it to be in their arms, and if you were in their arms, chances are you’d fall asleep sooner rather than later. You just couldn’t help it, the serenity of knowing how safe you were in their trustworthy embrace, nothing could ever hurt you there. And they didn’t mind it one bit.

With their exceptional strength, either one of them could hold you for hours at a time without getting tired. When he took you grocery shopping, Steve would push the cart with one hand and hold you in the other. If you stayed awake, he’d point to the things he needed, and you’d grab them and toss them in the cart. By the end of the shopping trip, though, you’d usually nodded off, face smooshed into Steve’s shoulder as he checked out. 

Bucky’s chest was more preferable to you than any mattress. The two of you could more often than not be found on the big sofa in the living room, you asleep on him while he read a book or watched a movie, your presence soothing him. If you were still napping in Bucky’s arms by the time he needed to go to a therapy appointment, he’d bundle you up in a blanket and just bring you along. He’d even bought you a cute pair of noise canceling headphones, so you wouldn’t have to hear anything that wasn’t safe for little ears.

All the other Avengers were used to seeing you sleeping through meetings. Sometimes it took all their super strength not to get distracted by how peaceful you looked in Steve’s arms as he tried to get them to pay attention to the mission. Tony would often crack jokes to hide his jealousy; Peter was far too rambunctious to sit through a whole meeting, let alone nap through one. Sometimes you even slept so soundly, you’d make it in and out of the meeting and back home without even waking up. 

Your favorite by far, were the days when neither of them had to work, or shop or do anything at all. These days were somewhat hard to come by, since your daddies were so important and responsible, but every so often the schedules would perfectly align. The only time you’d get up from the bed would be to cuddle on the couch for a while just to get a change of scenery. These were the best naps of all.

[zanarkandss]

the perks of having a teleslate

phainon/reader: 656 words; established relationship; mentions of rough sex; phainon is whipped but also very down to ruin you; gn reader; nsfw (minors dni)

part of the reason i wrote this was bc i kept making jokes about how the hell they were gonna deal w phones in ancient greece. well turns out they did and also gave a guy a gun. so what do i know.

Phainon’s wallpaper is you. You’re pretty sure he had you as his teleslate screen before you got together - ‘It’s what best friends do!’ he’d told you, grin plastered on his face. He even rotates the image out on a weekly basis, wanting to make sure he captures every moment of your life. 

It’s a sweet sentiment, really. You’re just…slightly concerned for his storage space. Surely it’s getting full by now? You’ll ask to go through his phone and he’ll hand you his teleslate no questions asked, and you can’t help but put your head in your hands at how many photos he’s got of you. Some of these, you have no idea when he’s managed to take them, or how he’s managed to convince your friends to send him photos of you when you’re not with him.

(‘What did you bribe them with?’ 

‘Who?’ You glare at him. ‘Ahem. Aglaea gets to go through my wardrobe and sort through it. She said she’d keep what you bought me, though, and said it was a blessing you had—‘ 

‘No more, please. I can't fault her for that.’)

Oh, and Titan’s forbid you try to delete any. He’d swiftly pull the device up and away out of reach, using his height against you. Only when you provide him with the number of kisses he wants (a lot) will he let you go through them again. If you want to delete them, he’ll allow you, though, not without going on about what the photo means to him. Losing to him is an inevitability; you end up way too flustered to let him continue to harp on about how much he loved you in this single moment. That he can do that for each of the photos he has is…a bit too much for your heart.

Well, at least he has the other ones of you hidden. They’re behind another app, something benign that no one would go on. And even then there’s a passcode. He’d whined about wanting to get some photos of the two of you having sex so that he could have something to use while he was away from you. 

You found it hard to say no. After all, he’s so earnest, and a hero to boot. Who else could reward him with something like this? 

Now, whenever he feels it right, he’ll take a photo. Maybe a quick video too, if he’s daring, though he’d much rather tend to you. These photos you don’t really realise he takes at that moment. You tend to be too fucked out, malleable to his whims as he grips your cheeks with one hand to get you to look into the camera, eyes bleary and body covered with bites. There are others as well. Some, where your face is pressed into the pillows and he pushes you down so hard you can see the veins in his arms. Others, where he’s got you laying on his chest, too tired to sit up to ride him properly, make-up streaked down your face. They’re always followed up with pictures where he’ll be stroking your hair, gentle, placating, as if he didn’t put you in this situation in the first place. 

Not that you’ve got room to complain. He tends to you well. Maybe you’re more annoyed at the fact he calls it ‘making love’ like some young pining maiden instead of a man who can fold you in half and ruin you until morning comes, only stopping because he has duties to attend to instead of being left drained of all energy.  

Still, you love him. And he loves you too. You’re the only one he’d ever dream of being with like this, the one he wants to see the future of Amphoreus with. And if anything comes between him and that dream? Well, he’s enough strength to protect your honour. He is not a Chrysos Heir for nothing, after all.

© 2025 zanarkandss; do not plagiarise, translate, or repost my works elsewhere.

[misssakuramochi]

A SENKU x READER DRABBLE

Synopsis: Normally, you're perfectly happy to idle away at Senku's side as something of an assistant, helping wherever he might need you. It's not until a few hard-hitting comments by the campfire that you start to think you might be overcrowding your favourite scientist.

Requested by: A Lovely Anonymous Requester

Request: 'I am sorry I am distrubing you but do you open for request now? I apologize if Iam impolite but if yes, can I request drabble of senku x reader (dr.stone) where reader is a clingy person who follow Senku everywhere and do things Senku ask that are within her ability. Reader love language is physical touch though doesn't show it to Senku because afraid of annoying him. Basically , How do you think Senku will react if Reader suddenly doesn't cling to him anymore because afraid of annoying him.'

Age Rating: N/A

Warnings: Topics of insecurity and self-doubt

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

There was no way to sugar coat it, or any more flattering way to splice it; you were, for better or for worse, clingy. You knew it - Senku knew it - everyone knew it. It wasn’t a secret you exactly tried to keep hidden. Mindful as you tried to be of others social energy and where it might not align with yours, you couldn’t help but find your days more enjoyable when you had those you cared for at your side to enjoy them with you. It wasn’t always romantic - you tended to cling to your friends, too, often finding yourself craving the company of some manner of companion over the entertainment of your own thoughts. Of course, that wasn’t to say it was entirely unromantic either. Once the spark of attraction was lit, you couldn’t help but crave the attention of the person who interested you most over that of anyone else. So, once you had finally realized just how much you had come to like Senku, you had begun to find it hard to keep yourself apart from him.

Very much contrary to yourself, Senku wasn’t a person for such sentiments. He had a goal in mind, and if he wanted to finish it in time to see it come to fruition he had a lot to get done. For better or for worse he was level-headed, practically minded, and extremely logical. If spending time with someone would take away from his goals, he wasn’t going to be inclined to do it nearly so often, enjoy their company or not.

Drawbacks as they may have had, the machinations of Senku’s mind were something you’d come to love about him. His over-logical, straightforward responses often triggering fondness in your chest where others may have faltered under his blunt-faced words. Respect his nature as you might, though, none of that stopped you from wanting to spend time with him. So, you resolved ever-simply to make yourself useful.

It wasn’t as though that was a particularly tedious goal for you to start. It had always been important to you to be useful, to help the people you cared for however you might be able to. After the world’s descent into stone it was more important now than ever to work together, anyway, so helping Senku rebuild what was lost hardly seemed to be any sort of burden.

Before long you’d earned yourself the honorary title of Senku’s loyal assistant. Though it was a name first given to you in jest by Gen, who’d opted to poke a little fun at you for your ever-obvious feelings for your mad scientist of a leader (and he had been chastised rather quickly by Senku for it) it hadn’t taken too many more days of you following around after Senku to help with whatever work he happened to find for himself for the nickname to catch on. 

It had embarrassed you at first, a little, to be called out so bluntly for the way you followed Senku about, admittedly a bit like a lost puppy. But, behind the teasing words were kind smiles and supportive friends, and soon you’d settled into the moniker. Once you’d begun to take the jabs with teasing pride Senku’s disdain for them all but seemed to disappear, the joke becoming commonplace.

A loud voice pulled you from your reminiscence and a slight inclination of your head brought Yo into view, arms waving enthusiastically above his head as he beckoned you to join the group he sat with at the fireside.

“Yo! It’s [Name]! Rare to see you out of the lab. Senku finally pass out on his paperwork?” The bellowing laughter that came to follow would have told you Yo was drunk even without the wafting smell of stone-age alcohol that coated him like overapplied cologne, hitting you like a wall as you came closer. Still, rambunctious as he got, he wasn’t… bad, exactly. So, even as a bulky arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you into a sloppy, sideways hug, you just gave Yo an awkward smile.

“Oh, no, he just told me I should take a break. We’ve been working since lunch so I thought maybe I’d bring him someth--”

“Ahhh, that’s rough!” Yo’s sudden exclamation took you by surprise, especially as one dramatic arm (the one that wasn’t still holding you in a drunken embrace) raised to hold his brow, lips downturned in a deep frown, “No wonder you came to grab a drink, eh? You! Go get them a double.” Though you initially met Yo’s apparent sympathy with blank-eyed confusion, the solemn nods of the others around the fire had your brow slowly curving in concern. While the agreement of Yo’s men was questionable, even Magma and Mantle were nodding along as if witnessing some unspoken tragedy that you, despite being the star of, had yet to be informed about.

“Can’t say I blame him though. A man needs some space every now and again.” Magma’s shrug, heavy but dismissive as he threw a clean-gnawed bone into the fire, put together the missing pieces for you.

“Hey, don’t feel bad. Don’t get me wrong, Senku’s a good guy but he’s like. Weird, you know? Here, don’t beat yourself up.” Though Yo seemed to pick up on your shift in mood as your face fell, and you knew he was well intentioned as he pushed the drink he’d had one of his subordinates fetch you towards your face, but the acidic smell of alcohol against your nose burned like insult on top of injury, and as your mind swirled in new-found paranoias you found your feet moving, quickly untangling from Yo’s light grip as you found yourself needing to be anywhere else.

“Um, sorry I’m not really thirsty. I have something I need to take care of, so…” Polite as ever you tried not to trip over yourself as you made your exit, struggling to keep your voice even over the lump aching in your throat. Too distracted to catch the way Yo turned to chastise Magma, you found your thoughts all-encompassing, your walk back to the small hut that served as your sleeping quarters a blur of whirling emotion and the strained effort to hide it.

You had been trying, for a long time, to tell yourself that you weren’t a bother. There were others in the village who were stronger than you, smarter than you, more dexterous and more inventive. But, you had always told yourself that none of that mattered. Maybe you couldn’t be as intelligent and persistent as Senku and his unwavering spirit; maybe you couldn’t be as quick to learn and improvise as Chrome; maybe you couldn’t be as fast as Kohaku, as strong as Magma, as charismatic as Gen, but if you could just be useful, it didn’t matter. If you could just help everyone, anyone, in whatever way you could, you had told yourself that that would be enough. But, maybe you were a liar. Maybe all of that, all of those thoughts, were nothing more than an elaborate way to free yourself of the guilt of trying to steal all of Senku’s time away for yourself; of being deeply, whole-heartedly selfish. Were you even trying to help him, anyone else, at all? Or did it just benefit you?

It would be those thoughts that kept you paralyzed for the next week. Each temptation to find Senku, to check in on his progress or see if he might be in need of a hand, was met with the icy thought that he may very well prefer that you didn’t. Hesitation held a cold grip on your heart, squeezing when you pictured the confrontation. If you asked Senku if you were a bother, you knew he wouldn’t lie to you. While Senku’s honesty usually made you feel safe, right now you couldn’t help but admit that it scared you. And so, you found yourself spending your days shying away from the lab you’d spent the last several months in, time spent with the others keeping you sated and perhaps sane as they drove away the chattering demons of self-doubt. Living to keep the demons at bay led you into a pattern of monotony, empty-eyed and unenthused as you painted on a smile you knew wasn’t as convincing as you wanted it to be. Still, it was better than being a burden.

It was the final evening after your week of reclusion that you finally felt something other than cold emptiness and choking depression; hysterical terror. Though, this stint of horror was blessedly short lived.

When the end of your work days came you had, as of late, found yourself longing for the thoughtless bliss of sleep almost desperately. Shrugging free of your clothes as you walked into the mud and straw building you’d come to call home you’d drop into a bed of straw and wait for the darkness to come. It had become such a standard routine that, when it was broken, you thought yourself viable to have a heart attack. Stepping into a dark home and hanging the leather overcoat that kept you warm through the change of seasons and seeing movement in the dark would have been enough to set you on edge; the lighting of your bedside candle from across the room made you scream.

“Wh-- hey, it’s me! Calm down!” Standing at the opposite end of your hut, illuminated now in the flickering orange of candlelight, Senku had the audacity to look annoyed by your reaction to his break-in. As you stared at his familiar, flat expression you found your fear begin to ebb - only for it to flow back as your eyes caught the shadow cast on the wall. In the unsteady light of a tiny flame his hair swirled in angry shadows behind him, limbs overlong and twitching; Senku, and the version of him you’d been so afraid to face. It didn’t look like he was going to let you run anymore, either.

“What are you doing in my room?” Senku’s frown only dipped as you posed your question, eyes locking with yours with a stern hardness that told you he wasn’t here to play games with you.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Seeing you open your mouth to protest Senku raised and hand and continued, not giving you the opportunity to defend yourself; he didn’t want to waste time with the argument, “You’ve spent approximately 10 hours each day in the science lab working on projects with me each month up until last week - when you stopped coming altogether. You also haven’t been to any of the places you normally go, which means you’re avoiding whoever might look for you there.” Senku’s eyes dared you to challenge him, crossed arms speaking of his rigidity. Still, with your shoddy plans and simple intentions laid so plainly bare, it was hard to find any genuine argument.

“Well?” His simple response in the face of your downtrodden guilt snapped your eyes back from the floor to his, the casual, brow-quirked expression on his face only surprising you further. He hardly seemed upset - just impatient, perhaps as his hands found his hips and he inclined his head slightly towards you, “What did I do?”

This time your shock seemed to surprise him, too. Still, you couldn’t help your wide-eyed stare as, once again, the pieces clicked into place. You’d fit in the ones Magma had given you before, but you hadn’t stopped for even a moment to consider if they were even a part of the right puzzle. So overwhelmed with self-doubt and anxiety, you hadn’t stopped to see if they added to the right picture. While you’d been busy drowning yourself in your own tears, Senku had been trying to figure out how he’d upset you.

“N-no, Senku, it wasn’t--”

“Seriously, don’t bullshit me. If you’re mad at me I can’t fix it if--”

“Senku.” It wasn’t often that you spoke so softly and so genuinely, old habits of smiling to appease and speaking to placate carrying over even in this new world. It took Senku off guard to hear you speak his name that way, your smile somehow both guilty and earnest as you finally crossed the room to stand closer to your friend.

“I mean it. You didn’t do anything.” As his eyes pushed you for explanation you found yourself becoming bashful, gaze escaping his as nervous hands began to play with grown out strands of your hair as if you'd find an excuse less embarrassing than the truth within their tresses, “I just got worried that I was bothering you so I decided to give you some space.”

Senku’s eyes, narrowed as his lips pursed to push out a small hum, told you that explanation wasn’t quite enough for him - he could tell there was more, and he wasn’t about to let you go with any unspoken turmoils. Not after he’d gone through all the effort of learning your ever-changing schedule to corner you just to address them.

“Yeah? Who told you that?” The way your shoulders stiffened at the question told Senku immediately that he’d hit the right nail, and rather directly. It made him pause, for just a moment, thinking about how you specifically must have felt being made to think of yourself as burdensome; he was quick to sigh off the dull ache it caused in his chest, shrugging to himself. He’d found you and cleared the issue, which he supposed was all that really mattered now.

“Yo and Magma said that maybe… I should give you… space…” Senku had finally been ready to let it go when you opted to answer. The way he looked at you as you spoke, though, took away what little steam you’d had starting the sentence. Mouth having cocked ever so slightly ajar as brows flattened and eyes focused in on you, Senku’s reaction to this information was obvious. It did little to ease your embarrassment when his words came out to echo what his face already spoke clearly.

“You took advice from Yo and Magma?” Despite himself Senku found a grin quirking his lips as your cheeks tinged pink, pouting over your light-hearted embarrassment at having your actions laid bare so logically. As you began to whine about his assessment, Senku found himself unable to hold back a laugh. He couldn’t deny that you were cute.

“Look.” The sudden serious shift to Senku’s tone took you off guard once more, pout-protruded lips parting as you snapped back to genuine attention, “You don’t bother me. If I needed more time to myself I’d just say that.” Though the casual way he scratched at his ear feigned ease, you knew he was trying to settle your nerves.

“Besides,” Senku’s grin turned sharper as his voice took on a teasing lilt, fingers raising to give your cheek a teasing pinch, “who’s going to test out all of our experiments if I don’t have my assistant with me, huh?” As often as others had referred to you as Senku’s assistant, he’d never admitted it himself; hearing the words from his mouth made your heart clench and you moved despite yourself as your arms came to wrap around Senku’s waist, pulling him in for the hug you’d been aching to give him for ages.

Much as Senku groaned a mild complaint about the overly-emotional contact he made no move to resist you, fighting only the smile that threatened to show his thoughts more honestly on his lips than he wanted, for the moment. Rather, he allowed you your moment, reciprocating by means of a somewhat stiff hand resting atop your head.

“If you’re worried about something just talk to me about it. That makes the most sense.” Even under the light chastisement you just smiled, nodding into the loose leathers of Senku’s clothes. You’d spent more than enough time to find comfort in his bluntness, knowing he had just as much told you not to be stupid next time as he had told you that he was there to support you, and he didn't want you hesitating to rely on him.

“Thanks, Senku.”

“Yeah.” A soft scratch to your hair made you hold tighter, and Senku was quick to take to surprise.

“You can let go of me now.”

“One more minute.”

“Eh?!”

xxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: Hello Anon! Please do not worry, my requests are open and I am always happy to have more things to write! You were not rude at all. Thank you for your request. I hope you like how it turned out!

As always, thank everyone else who took the time to read as well, and I hope you enjoyed just the same.

Safe travels, readers!

[ceruark]

somebody's supposed to fall in love

[yan! alexis ness x gn! reader x yan! michael kaiser]  synopsis: your boyfriend’s best friend is an oddly prominent figure in your relationship. [university au. implied poly.] cw: yandere themes - implied stalking and obsessive behavior. wc: 1.4k a/n: if you ever find me caught between these two, don’t help me… i’m exactly where i need to be

you’re not fond of how… involved michael is in your relationship.

he’s studying abroad the year you and alexis get together, but even so, you’re aware of how important the man is to your boyfriend; it’s hard not to, given that michael draws attention every time he enters a room, and before you entered the picture, alexis followed him around like a second shadow. you know about their close friendship going into the relationship, but it proves to be a problem in a much different way than you expect. 

alexis's friends warn you that he tends to be a pushover where michael is concerned, and that you’ll always be second to the blonde, even if it’s you alexis is actually dating. of course, you don’t pay their words any mind in the beginning, given that michael is on the other side of the world, both out of sight and out of mind while you and alexis get cozy with each other.

when michael returns to campus the following year, both your and alexis’s friends joke that he’ll drop you now that his real lover is back. at first, there’s some truth to what they’re saying; alexis spends so much of his free time catching up with michael, which means he isn’t really seeing you, since you make a point to avoid the blonde like the plague. 

at some point, alexis must realize you’re pulling away from him, texting him less frequently and not bothering to ask if he’ll be at your apartment that night— no, you already know where he’ll be. so roughly a month after michael’s return, alexis rushes back into your arms, apologizing for neglecting your relationship and swearing to make it up to you.

and he does… kind of. he splits his time more evenly between you and michael, and though it aggravates you that the other is as much of a priority to your boyfriend as you are, you give him some grace— it’s his best friend who was away for a year. for a blissful two months, you accept this delicate balance alexis is managing as the new norm, and eventually any irritation you feel over the matter has dissipated altogether by the time your lovely boyfriend decides to knock you off your axis once again.

he wants you to meet michael. after all, who doesn’t want their best friend and significant other, the two people most important to them, to get along?

the thing is, you’ve met michael already— in freshman year, and you think it’s odd that michael hasn’t mentioned this to alexis. you sat next to him during an introductory writing course you both took to fulfill a general graduation requirement, and unfortunately for you, it was a class where the professor forced you to discuss the content with your neighbor on the daily. only half way into week two, you’d snapped at him, fed up with his holier-than-thou attitude and calling him out on how his condescension did little to mask his apparent insecurities with himself.

perhaps you should have known that someone like him would only view your words as a challenge. you’d dug your own grave at that point, and michael only got worse after that, using every class period as an opportunity to get under your skin and discover what makes you tick. he seemed far too gleeful every time you bit back an insult in the name of keeping your cool, and by the time the semester ended, you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him— a sentiment you conceded when you got with his best friend, but the point still stands.

even after that wretched semester, though, you’d still notice michael in the peripheral of your life. sometimes you’d catch him staring at you when you were in one of the dining halls laughing with your friends, or in the library slogging through your mountain of assignments. you always met his blank stare with one of your own, never giving him the satisfaction of a reaction.

your hatred may have simmered down over time, but you still want to keep him as far away from you as possible. you cannot fathom how someone so loathsome could keep the company of someone so sweet, but there were still facets of alexis’s mind that you were working at comprehending.

so you agree to meet michael, and to your surprise and suspicion, it’s fine. you don’t know if he’s just playing nice because you’re with alexis and it’s going on a year now, but you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. you allow this delicate civility to settle between yourself and michael and agree to spend more time in his presence, more for alexis’s sake than for your own.

but by the time your decision to let him in catches up to you, it’s far too late. give him an inch, and he’ll take a mile; it hits you like cold water one random day in the second semester of the year that you and alexis haven’t really had a moment alone together in months. save for the bedroom, every second you’ve spent with your boyfriend has also been spent in michael’s company. you don’t even know how it happened, just that you had somehow gotten so used to him being around that this little fact managed to slip under your radar.

the minor detail nagging at the back of your mind evolves into a loud, blaring siren the weekend after midterms. you got together with alexis and some of his friends for a celebratory drinking session following a slew of exams and essays, and now, you sit slumped over the table in one of alexis’s hoodies, a delightful buzz making you feel lighter, but not bumbling. alexis is making sure a very drunken erik makes it back to his dorm safely, leaving you alone with michael in their shared apartment.

the blonde is reclined in the seat across from you, eyes half-lidded as he fumbles with a deck of cards left out from the night’s events. he’s had more to drink tonight than both you and alexis, and it’s evident in the way his guard seemed to be lower than you’ve ever seen it. he laughed more— openly and warmly, with his friends rather than at them— and he was even, dare you say it, pleasant to be around.

so naturally, your guard is down, too, when he looks at you with a hint of a smirk on his face and asks, "you know you’re wearing my hoodie, right?"

you snort at him. “what are you talking about? i got this out of alexis’s closet.”

“i’m sure,” he agrees. there’s a glint in his eyes, one that reminds of why you wanted to keep your distance from him in the first place.

“alexis and i share everything.”

something about the way he holds your gaze with such intensity has your stomach flipping over. you haven’t felt like this around him in a while— uneasy, uncertain— but maybe the alcohol has him acting bolder, or rather, has him forgetting to put on the carefully crafted mask that he’s had on around you for the past few months.

the suffocating tension snaps when you hear the sound of the front door clicking shut and alexis kicking off his shoes at the entrance. you quickly spring up from your seat, heading into the other room to ask if erik’s alright, and then get ready for bed. you don’t step out of alexis’s room to bid michael good night, the lingering feeling of his gaze still sending icy pinpricks down your spine.

he starts flirting with you after that. he starts flirting with you in front of alexis, who does absolutely nothing about it. alexis, who just laughs at michael’s antics like his best friend isn’t actively hitting on his significant other. alexis, who doesn’t bat an eye when michael’s touch on your shoulder lingers just a little too long. alexis, who starts forcing you into the middle of couch between him and michael when it’s the spot that he usually takes.

alexis, who approached you first. alexis, who seemed to already know everything about you when you first started dating, who always knew exactly what to say or do to make you head over heels for him. alexis, undoubtedly in love with you, but undeniably devoted and loyal to michael. alexis, prancing around in sheep’s clothing and leading you directly into the jaws of the wolf.

it’s far too late to even try to untangle yourself from their web, and that makes the realization all the more awful; from the start, you were never meant to be just alexis’s.

[always-just-red]

Please make a story that zayne is very clingy, sweet , romantic

For Mc

Pretty please

Make it long

Please

Please

Need a food 🥺

Food is served!! (One of these days you guys are gonna see an 'only accepting requests for Rafayel now' post and it'll be Raf hijacking my computer because WHY WAS I CATCHING FEELINGS FOR ZAYNE WHILE WRITING THIS??)

Doctor's Orders

Zayne x Reader ❄

Summary: Zayne has suggested you skip work today, which isn't suspicious at all...

Genre: Fluff (with a *pinch* of angst)

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, established relationship, some kisses, some mentions of death (just a real mixed bag, you know?)

| Word count: 2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Do you really have to go?”

Zayne was a lot of things: caring, even doting, but never normally this… clingy.

You pretend not to hear the question, feeling the weight of his eyes on your back as you get ready to leave. You will answer it— you’re not ignoring him— but you have so much to do, and you’ve answered it three times already. Yes, Zayne. It’s work. You finish lacing your boots. And no, Zayne, I can’t get out of it.

And since when was he an advocate for skipping a shift, anyway? Like blood from a stone, he’d calmly pleaded with you to come up with some sort of excuse and you’d stared back, eyes wide, because you didn’t know stones could bleed.

An excuse? You’d repeated in disbelief.

Yes. You could… tell them you’re sick? I could write you a note.

You’d thought it a joke until he drew out a pen and started scrawling something on the nearest scrap of paper. He’d pushed it into your hands, his gaze earnest, as though he were trusting a co-conspirator. Here, he’d said matter-of-factly, you can give it to your captain tomorrow.

The writing was barely legible.

It’s still crinkling in your pocket now: your little ‘get-out-of-your-Sunday-shift-free’ card, courtesy of Doctor Zayne, and yes, you are going to hold onto it, but it’s not for Jenna. It’s for your apartment wall, where you’ll be mounting it in a golden frame, because absolutely no-one is going to believe you when you tell this story.

You collect your guns from a nearby drawer, checking the sights and the safety on each before holstering them at your sides. “The sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll get back,” you shrug.

A nice sentiment— not entirely true. “Or you could stay.” Zayne is looking at your weapons, not you.

He’s sat at the kitchen table, watching you over an untouched breakfast. Yours also sits around him: plates upon plates of every food you could imagine, warm and cold, savoury and sweet. You’d suffered a brief heart attack when you’d first laid eyes on it, presuming you’d forgotten some occasion or another.

There’s even a vase of fresh flowers, flourishing at the centre of it all.

It’s one of the most romantic things you’ve ever seen, but you’re starting to think that’s the point. Like a hand on your heart, squeezing; it’s urging you to sit back down, to relax, to surrender and let him take care of you. Are you the worst person in the world? It feels like you are.

Ready to take on anything but more of his gaze, you return to the table, fully-armed, and pluck a strawberry from the edge of a plate. You pop it into your mouth, savouring its sweetness as you stroll behind Zayne’s chair. “Try not to worry,” you mumble, resting your hand on his shoulder while you lean in to kiss his cheek. “Ok?”

“Ok.”

You go to pull away, but his hand lands on your hand, anchoring you to him. His fingers wrap around your wrist, lifting, guiding your fingers in front of his mouth so he can press a few, brisk kisses to each. Your heart is in a vice again— tightening with every brush of his lips. You can’t take it. You can’t.

He knows, and he’s turning in the chair, slipping his free hand around your waist and tugging until you’re crushed up against him. “Stay. Please?” his voice entreats. You can barely hear it from where his face is nestled into you.

You have to remind yourself to breathe, and you sigh as your hands move to cradle his head and run your fingers through his hair. You want to enjoy this. Why can’t you enjoy this?

His breath is fanning against you and all you can think about is the fact that he’s making you late.

…

You’re marching to headquarters twice as quickly as usual, and you’ve crashed into three people already. Every time there’s been an impulse to scream “get out of the way!” but you’re wearing your uniform, so you have to apologise, smile sweetly, and pretend you’re not one incident away from turning in your badge and leaving them all to fend for themselves.

Someone steps out in front of you and you have to swerve to miss them, almost dropping your phone in the process. It had just started ringing, and the noise persists as you fumble with it.

“Hello?” you answer, putting it to one ear as you plug the other with a finger.

“Hi!” It’s Greyson, finally, and he’s surprisingly chipper for someone you know is just coming off of his graveyard shift. “I saw your texts. Is everything ok?”

“Yeah! Thanks for calling. It’s just…”  Everything’s too noisy for you to concentrate, and you’re still essentially running an obstacle course. You peel away from the crowd, ducking into the quiet of an alley. “I’m a little worried about Zayne. He’s been acting weird all weekend, ever since—”

“Friday?”

“Yeah.” That couldn’t mean anything good. Your brow furrows. “Did something happen?” 

A drawn-out sigh makes it through the phone, and you know Greyson well enough to know he’s pinching the bridge of his nose, wondering just how much he should tell you. “We had a patient transferred to us on Friday,” he caves, “a young woman— a hunter, injured— she was… not in a good way. Recovery odds next to zero, but Zayne? You know Zayne. He had to try.”

You nod, even though Greyson can’t see it. There’s dread in the pit of your stomach; you can tell where this is going.

“She didn’t make it,” he states with the rehearsed evenness of someone who’s spoken the words too many times before. There’s another sigh, then he hastens to add: “Zayne was incredible, though— he did everything he could, really. He was her best chance, he just… wasn’t enough. You can’t save everyone, you know?” He chuckles awkwardly. “Yeah, you know.”

And you do: you’re just as haunted by that truth and all of its ghosts. “Yeah,” you speak at last, seeing their faces. Your throat hurts. “Thanks, Greyson. Really.”

“That’s ok,” he yawns. “If Zayne asks, you didn’t hear it from me.”

“You think he’s gonna believe that?”

“No.” He’s smiling, now— you can tell. “But it’s worth a try! You take care of yourself, ok?”

“You too. Thanks again.”

“Any time.”

…

You’ve only been gone for half an hour, but Zayne is fast asleep. Though you’d practically burst through the front door, his head is still lowered— dipping over an open medical journal— and his dark hair has fallen over his eyes. You can’t help but smile. This wasn’t the nervous, pacing-the-apartment man you’d expected to find, but it eases the guilt in your chest for the first time all morning.

You sling your bag from your shoulder and set it gently down on the floor, all the while easing the door closed behind you. You unfasten your holsters. Shrug yourself free of all their straps. You don’t make a sound; you’re being very careful.

Slowly, you make your way over to where Zayne’s lying on the sofa. You lower yourself to his level, reaching to pry his book from his fingers. His glasses are next: you ease them from his face like you’re handling a volatile protocore. Your breath is baited. Your hands almost shake, but you’re an expert at this sort of extraction: you’ve done it a hundred times before.

With your mission accomplished, you allow yourself one small reward. You want to see his face— all of his face— so you card your fingers through his fallen hair, smoothing it back into place. He looks like a dream: the kind you’re glad to carry through daylight, long after you wake. The kind you write down for fear of forgetting a single detail.

You want this, this, this. Every morning. For the rest of your life.

And maybe even the next life. Is that possible?

(You hope it’s possible.)

Standing softly, you smile again— a smile between you and the universe, the gods, and the night sky, in all its infinity. There are things you cannot know and even more things you cannot have, but you are more than content with your consolation prize. This:

One minute of peace, for you and your doctor.

You have a funny feeling this is more than you were ever meant to have.

When your minute is through, you watch as Zayne’s face changes, and he is no longer at peace. He frowns, his whole body suddenly tense. There’s a murmur of… pain? It sounds like pain— he winces like it’s pain. He doesn’t tell you where he goes, but you wish you could hold his hand and make a breakfast big enough to keep him from going there.

“Zayne,” you whisper, resting a warm palm on his cheek. A little louder: “Zayne.”

He stirs in his sleep as your voice brings him back to reality. He’s yours— yours— and the inevitable can have him later. Sure enough, his eyes flutter open, lost for a moment, but then? Home. Safe. With you.

“Hey,” you grin.

He squints against the daylight. “Hmm? Oh. What are you doing back so soon?”

You scoff. “Some doctor you are! I’m at death’s door— can’t you tell?” Your hand leaves his cheek, indicating your not-pallid skin, not-flushed cheeks, and not-sunken eyes with a wave. Then you find his hand, pressing his fingers to your forehead.

There’s a second of hesitation. “Ah,” he says warily, “yes, you’re… burning up.”

“Right?!” 

Despite the severity of your condition, you find the strength to clamber on top of him. It’s anything but graceful, and he groans as you shift and fidget, taking your time getting comfortable. Eventually you settle, your head resting against his chest and his arms holding you close. You’re not tired, but you close your eyes, and this is so much better than patrolling for Wanderers.

He draws you higher so his chin can rest on the top of your head. “Greyson told you, didn’t he?” he ventures aloud, because he’s awake, now, so he’s connecting dots.

“Yeah,” you nod against him. “But if he asks, I said it was Yvonne, ok?”

There’s a hum of agreement, then he’s silent. Thinking again. “I’m sorry,” he finally speaks.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s sweet that you worry. You don’t need to—”

“No,” he stops you. “I care about you a lot, and I’ll never apologise for that. What I am sorry for, however, is that a romantic gesture from me is so unusual that you feel you have to call my colleagues. I know I’m not always outwardly affectionate, but—”

“No.” It’s your turn now, and you twist, angling yourself so you can look up into his eyes. “You always make me feel loved, Zayne. Everything you do, everything you say… it’s for me, and no-one has ever cared about me like that. No-one has ever showed me they care like that.”

“Then why—”

“Because you get it, Zayne— the importance of what I do, because it’s what you do, even if it’s different. We’re both saving the world a little, right?”

“Right.”

You draw out his doctor’s note and shimmy it in front of his eyes. “So what the hell is this?”

He admits guilt with a chuckle, his hand moving to catch the evidence, but you’re one step ahead, stashing it back into the sanctity of your pocket. He issues a short hmph, defeated.

“Come on,” you prompt, escaping his arms. “Let’s not let all that food go to waste. You kept it, yeah? I’ve been dreaming about those chocolate-chip pancakes since I left.”

Zayne had been helping you up, but he slumps back as you finish your sentence. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Oh,” he confirms with the trademark nod of a doctor, and it can only mean one thing:

You’re about to receive some very, very bad news.

[ruewrote]

𝑖𝑑 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑡.

PAIRING: josh washington x fem!reader WARNINGS: no use of y/n GENRE: fluff SONG INSPIRATION: still into you by paramore WORD COUNT: 1.1k NOTE: the inspiration was from randomly seeing this post

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you sat next to josh in the soft glow of the fireplace. the world outside was silent, the others fast asleep, but neither of you seemed ready to follow. there was something about these late night moments, when everything slowed down and the noise of the day faded away, that made you feel like you could stay here forever.

josh was leaning back on the couch, his legs stretched out beneath the table. his fingers tapped lightly against the fabric of the armrest in a rhythm that matched the quiet crackling of the fire. every now and then, his eyes would flicker over to you, but they'd dart away just as quickly, like he was too shy to hold your gaze. 

you’d known josh since high school, and even back then, he had a way of making you nervous, but what started as a harmless crush had grown into something much more, something you never quite found the courage to say out loud.

the two of you had been inseparable once, always laughing, always together. time had changed things, as it always does, but the connection was still there, pulsing just beneath the surface. 

you just had to reach out for it.

as josh shifted in his seat, your eyes caught something on his wrist, the worn edges of a familiar bracelet catching the firelight. your breath hitched. no way.

“is that…?” you asked, your voice trailing off, not daring to finish the thought.

josh looked down, his brows furrowing for a second before realization dawned on his face. a small, sheepish grin appeared as he held his wrist up, showing off the faded bracelet. “yeah… still got it,” he said with a chuckle, his voice playful but softer than usual. there was a hint of something vulnerable beneath the humor.

you blinked, your chest tightening as you stared at it. the bracelet was old now, the once bright threads you had carefully woven together long ago frayed and faded. you’d made it for him during your last year of high school, just a simple braided thread in his favorite colors. a silent promise. 

you’d almost forgotten about it, but here it was, still holding on after all these years.

“you’ve kept it this whole time?” you asked, your voice coming out more surprised than you intended.

josh shrugged, but his fingers were nervously playing with the bracelet’s loose threads. “i guess i’m more sentimental than i thought,” he said with a grin, though his eyes didn’t quite meet yours. he was trying to make a joke of it, but you knew better. josh wasn’t the type to hold onto things without a reason.

“you never took it off?” you pressed, this time more softly, curiosity mingled with the fluttering in your stomach. there was something almost thrilling about this realisation, that he had been carrying a little piece of you with him all this time.

josh let out a breath, leaning back a little, his gaze flickering toward the fire. “i thought about it a few times,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, the teasing edge gone. “but it felt weird, you know? like some things… just stick with you.”

your heart was doing a funny little dance in your chest, and you tried to ignore the way his words sent a warmth spreading through you. some things just stick with you. you weren’t sure if he meant the bracelet or something deeper, but the thought of it made your cheeks heat up.

“honestly, i didn’t think you’d even remember it,” you said, a little embarrassed by the way your voice wavered. “it was just a silly little thing i made.”

josh finally looked at you then, his eyes meeting yours for real, there was something different in them. something softer, more open than you’d seen in a long time. “i didn’t forget,” he said, his voice steady. “i didn’t want to.”

for a moment, you couldn’t speak. you’d spent so many years thinking of josh as this untouchable thing. your best friend, your crush, the guy you never quite had the courage to confess to. but sitting here, seeing him hold onto something that felt so small yet so significant, made you wonder if he felt it too.

“you’re such a sap,” you teased, but your words were gentle, almost affectionate.

josh laughed, this time fully, his usual confidence returning. “hey, i’m just saying– i wear your jewelry. not everyone can say that.”

“oh, yeah? well, don't go thinking you’re special now,” you shot back with a grin, feeling the ease between you both settling back into place, though your heart still raced beneath it all.

he leaned back into the headrest of his seat and grinning back at you. “well, i don’t see you making bracelets for anyone else.”

you bit your lip, trying to hide the smile that threatened to spread across your face. you leaned in a little too, closing some of the space between you. “maybe i’ll have to start charging for them,” you said, your tone playful.

josh raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. “oh, i’d definitely pay for this one. it’s totally vintage now.”

the two of you shared a laugh, the moment lighter, but the air between you had shifted. something had changed and you both seemed to feel it. 

“you really didn’t have to keep it, ya know?” you said, a little more softly this time, looking down at the bracelet as you spoke.

“i wanted to,” he replied, his voice just as soft, no hesitation in his words. “it’s… it’s a reminder of a time when things were easier, you know? when we were just… us.”

your heart clenched at his words, and you couldn’t help but reach out, your fingers brushing over the frayed threads. the touch was light, but it felt like it carried more weight than anything else you’d ever done. “i’m glad you did,” you whispered, barely loud enough to be heard.

josh’s hand shifted slightly, his fingers brushing yours as you both looked at the bracelet, a quiet moment passing between you. when you finally met his eyes again, there was something new there, for the first time in years.

“guess that this makes me your favourite, huh?” he said with a teasing smirk, trying to break the tension.

you smiled, your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. “you’ve always been my favourite, josh.”

this time, it was josh’s turn to freeze, his eyes searching yours, and for the briefest moment, you thought you saw that same emotion you’d kept hidden for so long reflected back at you.

and in that moment, you realized that maybe you weren’t the only one holding on to something after all.

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